The Plot Thickens
by Starsurfer108
Summary: Basically trying to make all of the human FNAF characters the same person


All I ever wanted to do was bring happiness to others. Hence the poster – "party time, eating time, fun time".

So when I pulled up for work in my purple car and saw that kid crying in the street, I knew he had to go for the good of the establishment and the others. I 'solved' the problem, then went around back to park my car and join my 'employee', Freddy Fazbear.

Police were snooping around after that, so I thought it best to move locations. Had to upsize, anyway, since my method for keeping people happy was working a bit too well.

Fortunately, nothing was proven beyond a reasonable doubt – the police obviously hadn't figured out how to interview animatronics. But some smart alec suggested that I fit the animatronics with criminal profiling software.

Whatever.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.

It's the screaming – the incessant piercing high-pitched whine. It was getting worse and worse. I just couldn't stand it.

Finally, I saw what I needed to do. I put an end to their screaming in the only way I knew how.

I thought there were no witnesses. Of course, there was the usual police hullabaloo which caused my restaurant to close temporarily.

I didn't mind the reprieve.

But then the unexpected happened. At first I thought the 'souls' of the children were trapped into the animatronics, causing them to act strangely towards me. But then I realised that it was the new criminal profiling programming that recognised me, interacting with the older data store that had witnessed the murders.

After unsuccessfully tinkering with them, I decommissioned the older animatronics; hopefully they wouldn't be functional. But it was too late; the newer ones I got as replacements had communicated with the same software and now I was added to the database of unconfirmed suspects.

I had to convince the FBI that there was faults with the recognition software. I'd found it's always better to have more suspects as it makes the police indecisive. Good old 'innocent until proven guilty', and they don't like convicting until they think they've got all evidence possible.

Just hope they don't figure out that they in fact DON'T have more than one suspect.

I slipped some bum a $50 note to say he was Jeremy Fitzgerald and take the day shift on Saturday. I think he was too drunk to fight back when they dragged him away. Or he was happy to receive meals in jail. Either way, it was the easiest con I'd ever done.

But I had to play along with those dratted police as clueless 'Fritz Smith' and close the restaurant yet again as the long-distance owner. Better than the alternative, I suppose.

I 'killed' the newer animatronics. Funny, they were just like people to me. And relocated again.

So, third time's the charm? I looked at my ID bearing my new identity, Mike Schmidt. May the poor schmoe rest in pieces.

The phone rang, and the recorded message started to play. Good to hear my own voice again.

I wanted to see if the animatronics were still mad.

I flicked on the monitor to see Bonnie leering into the camera at me from the spare parts room.

Yep, they were.

And as scary, I mean, _entertaining_ as it was to try and avoid animatronics out for your blood, I was getting tired.

Perhaps I could decommission them again, and share the fun by helping them do what they do best – scare people. Hopefully enough so they don't bring their pesky kids along.

Pesky, persistent like those ghost kids… uh-oh… they've barricaded me into the kitchen…

Yes, everyone would assume I'm not the person on the tapes. And everyone would assume that there's more than one person if I have a 'surfer dude' accent. Morons, seriously. But it was my safeguard should the police come wandering around again; their incompetence should do the rest.

Anyway, my motives remained singular – to bring happiness to others… this time by scaring the living bejeezus out of them.

It was weird, looking at my own corpse peeking through the mouth of the dilapidated yellow bunny having a staring contest with me through the office window.

Then again, it might be weirder if I tried to look in the mirror. I have NO idea what I'd see.

But this cat and mouse game gave me some reflection time. Maybe things could have been different, and could've turned out well. Damn persistent kids.

Maybe Marie Antoinette had the right idea.

Maybe I should let them eat cake.


End file.
